


The Marketplace

by Hayato (FoxofPerdition)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: ha, heavily dialogue-focused, i have a tendency to marry the weirdest fucks in my playthroughs, it's basically the shopkeepers of whiterun being really confused and invested in the new regular, its sort of a wind down story for me when idk what else to write, who worries them immensely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7058686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxofPerdition/pseuds/Hayato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with Belethor getting wound up by the ever-silent girl who sold the weirdest shit to him, and ended with them getting drunk off their asses making conspiracy theories.</p><p>It's one way to distract yourself from the dragons, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you _do_?”

“W-what?”

“You come in here every other day, buy potions, lockpicks, food, and sometimes arrows or iron, and then rush right back out. Just what do you that needs that near-daily?”

“...”

“W-ugh, do come back!”

* * *

“And she just fled! Like I asked her to skin a horse for me or something!”

“What’d she look like again?”

“An elf- Altmer I think? Wearing leather armor and boots, with a slash of war paint down her cheek. Always wearing that armor of hers, and always has a bow slung on her back.”

“Wait- I know who you’re talking about! She comes by near every day- likes to use my alchemy table, sells me the products right afterward. A little strange, but it gives me some diversity so I don’t mind it. Mostly buys deathroot and fire salts, for some reason.”

“She likes to make daggers an’ leather bracers for me- never goes in the shop, never really peeks at other products, just mass-buys leather, iron, and lockpicks if we have them. Looks at the arrows occasionally.”

“....Does anyone even know what her name is? Arcadia? Elrindir?”

“Don’t look at me- the only time she’s come into my inn is to trade in a leaching hunting bow for an elven one I had in stock. Didn’t even glance at me during it.”

“Damn.”

* * *

“How are you today?”

“Huh?”

“How are you? You seem a little tired.”

“Uh. Oh. I’m alright... getting some supplies.”

“I can tell. That’ll be 230 septims.”

* * *

 

“I got a reply out of her! I don’t know why you all are acting like it’s impossible.”

“Oh shut it, Carlotta. You could have gotten a guard to strip if you just batted your eyes. She came in again and bought pelts of all things today.”

“Really? She went by shop and made some leather armor today. Didn’t sell them to me, though. Maybe she forgot.”

“Maybe she just wanted them herself?”

“Why could one woman want three pairs of leather armor when she already has an enchanted pair, Hulda?”

“It’s a suggestion, get off my back when I’m the one supplying your mead.”

* * *

 

“Are you an alchemist?”

“...”

“You sure like deathbell.”

“I-It’s for someone else.”

“If you say so, sweetie.”

* * *

 

“Wait.... haven’t I seen you before?”

“No.”

“But-”

“ _No._ ”

“Guard, please leave the poor woman, she obviously doesn’t know _you_.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, you don’t need to sharpen your dagger like that, Avenicci.”

“...Thank you.”

“No problem. Now, I’m obligated to tell you those Nordic Arrows you’re holding are worthless at this store. The most I can do is take them off your hands.”

* * *

 

“How you doing today, doe face?”

“...”

“Don’t get that look- it’s a valid question for such a valued customer- and a brave one, too, going by those old swords.”

“...I am alright.”

“Wonderful! That’ll be 50 septims for the two swords, but 21 for the health potion, leaving you with 29. Do come back~”

* * *

“Maybe she’s just really shy?”

“And maybe she’s hiding something huge- I think everyone in the market heard about the fiasco with the guard today. And did you see the huge gouge on her arm? The girl has to be doing something she probably shouldn’t.”

“Why do you have to be so negative, Carlotta? It’s fully possible she’s just shy, with what you all have been saying. She’s polite enough, and that’s good enough for me.”

“Be quiet, Elrindir.”

* * *

 

“Welcome! Everything is for sale my friend, every-holy Kynareth! Kid, what happened to you?”

“....Bandits. Health potions?”

“You need more than _health potions_ , by the nines- come here, I refuse-” This was new, on a very large level that Belethor wasn’t quite ready for. The mystery girl of the market district had just walked into his shop looking half-dead, scratches everywhere and an arrow in her leg. Part of her arm was ripped near to the bone, and she looked barely able to stand. It made him wonder what the hell the guards were doing when someone walked into the city like this. Regardless of it being closing time for the day, there’s at least five guards wandering around the city at all times so _what the Hel_?

The girl staggered a bit- and it really was just a girl, her face soft and barely coming to his nose- and he rushed to catch her, calling for that idiot Sigurd to get some bandages and his needle and thread.

He sat her down on the bench near the door, quickly locking the door so there’d be no interruptions or, well, surprise attacks. Damn dragons and vampires. Sigurd quickly came with the requested items and the merchant set to work at trying to patch up his temporary patient, trying to think if he should get one of the priestesses- they would be busy with the recent plague, wouldn’t they? He remembered them saying they couldn’t spare a hand for one of the dragon victims, so he doubted they’d come for this.

The skin was ragged, and it smelled like a shoddy burn job, and he winced, thinking of what she must have attempted before coming here. He quickly wrapped up a deep gouge on her leg that must have been a last attempt by someone with a dagger or sword- too thin to be a war axe. There was one cutting into her armor, and he hesitated at touching it.

“I can’t get to this last one unless you take off your armor, miss.” She blinked at him drowsily, as if she couldn’t process his words- probably not, if she had a concussion, or had lost enough on the way here. Then without hesitation she fumbled with her armor, taking the torso section off and leading the skirt on. He was relieved to see she was wearing a wrap- there is and is not a time for breasts. This was a time for healing spells, bandages, and potions. Too bad he was shit at healing beyond a low-level passive spell and had run out of most instant fix-it potions with that mage that had come in earlier that day.

The worst wounds were covered, and he eyed the others, trying to figure if he should do anything to them. They weren’t deep enough, he decided, and snapped a hand at Sigurd to move. He backed away, watching and holding the girl’s armor as the Breton went and retrieved the largest healing potion he had in stock. The girl downed it agreeably.

“...Sorry.” She mumbled, watching as the bottle slowly dissolved away and relaxing a touch as some of the cuts and gouges shallowed.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” Belethor joked weakly before wincing and scratching his head. “Look, kid, I can’t just let you go back to do whatever you do like this. So it’s off to the inn with you- do you think you can get up?” She sloppily waved a hand, it seeming more like she was wriggling her arm. She took her armor from his storehand, buckling it back on with the expertise of someone who’s had to do it hundreds of times.

Belethor shouted when she slammed headfirst into the locked door.

* * *

 

“You were missing last night, Bel- you finally hook it up with someone? Find a person with low enough standards?”

“Hrm.”

“What, did something go wrong yesterday? Some city tourist try to cheat you out of money?”

“No, Adrianne- look, has the kid shown up at your stores day? Anyone seen her in Whiterun?”

“...I’ve not seen her in the market today, and I know Anoriath would have said something with how much we gossip about her.”

“Adrianne? Arcadia? Elrindir even? Anyone see her at all?”

“No? What’s happened?” “No.” Not since Turdas.”

“Wonderful. She came into my shop last night, needed probably a dozen potions to get her back on her feet- I had to manually patch her up to make sure she wouldn’t bleed out. Apparently she has a house in the city- who knew?- and I took her to it. I went and checked on her this morning, and the house was completely empty. Unlocked, too- I locked it on my way, just in case.”

“So... she walked back out after, what, a broken arm and some cuts?”

“An arrow in the calf, near-skinned arm, probable concussion, multiple gouges, and a failed burn near the skinned arm.”

“....By the Nines, that girl must be insane.”

* * *

 

The next day, no one quite thought of the mystery market girl because of the second fucking dragon to come near the city _attacking the same watchtower._ Everyone was terrified and Belethor was more than a little thankful his store had a cellar. The door to the shop opened, and he didn’t bother looking up from his copy of _King._

“Welcome, welcome, everything is for sale, my friend.” He called, absentmindedly turning another page.

“Do you have any arrows?” He startled, glancing up. Oh.

“Hey there, doe eyes. Why don’t I check for you?” He knew for a fact he had at least two quivers of dwarven arrows, but wanted to be able to look her over, seeing if she was still head-slammingly Not Well. But, somehow, in the span of the past few days, she had cleaned herself up completely. She had also managed to fill her bag so much the automatic expansion enchantment was overextended. What the hell was in there?

“I’ve got three sets of dwarven arrows, and-” He glanced down, making sure- “A set of steel. 5 per dwarven and 1 per steel. I’ve also got a few lockpicks and iron ore in stock, if you’re looking for them. Barter or coin, today?”

“....”

“Are those _bones_?” She shifted from foot to foot. Uncomfortable. He’d think anyone would be uncomfortable when trying to sell- Talos, dragon bones? These had to be with how big they were.

“How many do you have?” She pulled out two more piles twined together, and her bad deflated. Well. That explained things.

“Do you have any ebony or soul gems?”

* * *

 

“ _She killed the dragon.”_

“Bel, at least three other guards were there- she probably just raided the thing’s body. Probably helped clean things up, considering how big the corpse would be.”

“No, Adrienne, you don’t understand- these things were bleached white, as if they’d been out in the sun for ages. I'd've thought they were decades old if not for yesterday. And they were _clean._ No blood, muscle, fat, nothing! She- she did SOMETHING.”

“Calm yourself down, Breton! You’re drowning my beautiful voice out!”

“GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU PERVERTED ASSHOLE OF A BARD-”

“Oh, by the Nines, _really_ you two- Carlotta, get Belethor, I’ll grab Mikael-”

* * *

 

“And what do we do?”

“Not punch the bard in the face.”

“That’s right. Even if he is a sexist ass.” Belethor glared at the smug woman.

“You’re not even upset.”

“Of course not- did you know he’s still trying to have me bed him? I don’t think he realises I’m more likely to go for Ysolda than him.”

“M-miss Valentia-”

“Don’t worry honey treat, you’re just an example.”

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, but we’re about to- oh, it’s you! Haven’t seen you here in awhile, what do you need?”

“Uh. Do you have any ebony.” Ulfberth gave Adrienne a questioning expression but she waved it off, rummaging through their stock. Maybe today was the day she got Belethor to relax with some tidbits.

“Ah, we’ve got one ingot. That’ll be 150 Septims. Are you planning to make anything with it?”

“...Want to make a bow, but I’m not that great at smithing yet.” Oh, was that embarrassment? “I can only manage Elven working so far.”

“That’s better than many people- just keep working at it. The forge outside is always free for use. In no time you’ll be working up to that and even Orcish.” She got a small smile for her efforts before the girl fled with a quick thank you.

“Was that-”

“Yep. I think that’s the longest conversation I’ve ever gotten out of her. Let’s celebrate with venison.”

* * *

 

“Why am I not paid for this?”

“What was that?”

“Um. Nothing. You were saying about the Jarl’s children?”

* * *

 

“No more deathbell or fire salts?” The girl twitched. It was a full-body twitch. Arcadia didn’t know if she should be worried about that.

“I found the amount I needed.”

“And you’ve moved on to making poisons, I suppose?” The smile she cracked didn’t seem to help the girl’s discomfort. “I’m sorry, that was a horrible joke.”

That got her a small grin. Success.

* * *

 

“Maybe she just hates you, Belethor.”

“Or she’s uncomfortable with your constant flirting.”

“Adrienne, I don’t flirt. I _persuade_.”

“With horrible jokes about selling your sister into slavery.”

“Kanna never minds. Laughs about it in her letters.”

“Still creepy, you idiot. But she’s completely fine with us- maybe it’s men in general?”

“I’ve seen her talking to Farengar up in Dragonsreach, though.”

“Talos, Farengar’s worse than Belethor. Maybe you just freak her out.”

“I hate you all.” The door opened behind them. Probably just some nomad dropping in for a bed.

“Hey sweet-eyes-”

“ _I will set you on fire._ ” The group jumped, turning round to see- yep, that was mystery girl, glaring at Mikael and lifting him off the ground with one hand. Damn. “I just cleared out THREE TEMPLES, and if I have to deal with you, then it’s going to damn well be painful.” Mikael looked ready to piss his pants. The girl dropped him harshly, not bothering to look back as she turned to the bar. and froze. The group of four exchanged glances before moving closer, making a space.

To say the next hour was strange was an understatement.

* * *

 

“We still don’t know your name.” Adrienne got out an hour later, four drinks in and head on the counter. Huldra gave her an amused glance, nudging her slightly so she was farther from the empty bottles of ale. The mystery elf blinked slowly, as if just realising it herself. She hadn’t touched a drop, only nibbling on a honey nut treat that had been shoved in front of her.

“....Natalya.”

“Seriously? I would have expected something like Frigga, or Sidri from a girl like you.” Belethor piped up, less inebriated than his blacksmith friend.

“Or maybe something sweet like Fiora, or Astrid.” Arcadia added, smiling when Natalya ducked her head.

“My mother didn’t like normal names.” She muttered, taking another bite out of the treat. “I ended up with sisters named Tali and Regina.”

“An all-female family? No father?” Arcadia raised her brows. “Are you all elves? Not to be offensive-” Natalya shrugged her shoulders.

“Um. I have a dad. I. My... mom, they just took charge when we were adopted, I guess. My oldest sister is a Dunmer, and another is Imperial. My dad's a Khajit, but we don’t really see him much because of business. And I have a brother who’s Bosmer.”

“That’s a melting pot.” Belethor commented. “Any reason for it?” Natalya shrugged again, finishing off the rest of her honey treat and eyeing the stick. No one could really react when she chucked it at Mikael's head and grinned at his sputters.


	2. Chapter 2

When Belethor came to, he was staring at the high beams of a ceiling, his back aching from the hard surface he was lying on. He sat up with a groan, almost falling back over from his headache.

“Huldra, why didn’t you stop us?” He whined. The woman simply gave him a look of exasperation as she wiped the counter. Going by the quiet moaning around the room, he doubted anyone else had avoided a hangover. Except Carlotta, probably. She avoided everything through the power of motherhood.

“Natalya left with some Breton hours ago.” Huldra said conversationally. Belethor blearily glared up at her, trying to understand words through his migraine. “Sam Guevenne or something? Seemed nice. Bit weird.”

“...She just left with a complete stranger?” He felt strangely insulted.

“Well, you all  _ had  _ finally gotten her to drink some ale. Apparently she’s a lightweight. And he didn’t seem to be a bad sort, so I just told a guard to watch out for him and left it at that.” The merchant stare at her blankly, and she clarified. “In case  _ he  _ shows up but  _ she  _ doesn’t. We all know how frequently she pops into town.”

“I guess it helps that the guards are obsessed with her. Anyone who messes with her is bound to be bludgeoned with the pommel of their longsword.” A voice muttered behind him. Belethor glanced back to see Adrienne stumbling to her feet rubbing her face. There was something off about her, and they all realised what it was a moment later.

_ “Why the hell do I have tattoos now?” _

* * *

No one saw Natalya for a day and a half, going about their duties with the wonder of good gossip. When she finally did show up, it was Farengar who alerted them to it, of all people.

The evening had arrived, the sun falling over the horizon, when the court mage drudged into the inn, looking for all the world as though someone had pissed in his shoes. Most who saw him edged away; the Sweetroll Incident was still fresh in many minds.

Huldra, being the courteous innkeeper she was, couldn’t allow herself to be rude to a customer and gave him a polite smile when he sat. “Feeling alright, Farengar? You look a bit agitated.” He grunted, scowling down at his ale as though it personally offended him.

“Dragonkeep’s been overrun by that girl and her brother. All the ‘warriors’ are gathering to hear his stories about heroically saving a maiden from a raving bear. I had to leave before my brain shriveled to the size of theirs.” The innkeep shared a commiserating look with him, and let him be.

_ Adventurers. _

* * *

When everyone had gathered in the inn for their nightly commiseration, they were unnerved to see Farengar face down on the counter. Huldra shrugged her shoulders when Belethor gestured at him.

Adrienne shrugged and hauled him up, dropping him unceremoniously on a bench. He didn’t so much as twitch.

“Calming draught in his ale.” Huldra helpfully supplied, when the blacksmith leaned down to make sure he actually had a pulse.

“Talos, woman, more like three.” She shrugged again.

“He was loud.” The door to the inn opened behind them, and a few of them turned to look. Adrienne continued poking at Farengar, while Carlotta and Belethor couldn’t care less; some jackass had ruined their stock today, and it was time for  _ booze _ .

“Hello, Mister Belethor.” A hesitant voice called. Carlotta snickered when the man’s head shot up like an arrow. He unsubtly kicked her in return.

“Natalya? We haven’t seen you much this week.” He blinked at the sight in front of him. Natalya was smiling, hanging off the arm of a Wood Elf who looked like he could rip off someone’s arm. He was dressed head to toe in Dwemer armor, and his face was shadowed by a mage’s cowl. Well. 

Natalya saw their stares and smiled. “I promise he’s harmless, unless one of you is hiding a draugr or bear somewhere around here. Julius, stop being so looming.”

While he couldn’t see a damn thing from under the cowl, Belethor was 100% certain the man had rolled his eyes. Fiercely. It was quickly removed, revealing a scarred face and ginger hair slicked back. It didn’t help ease the arm-ripping impression.

Arcadia took the step up and was the first of them to stop being a gaping fool; she gave the couple a smile, stepping forward to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Julius. Are you Natalya’s- husband? Brother?”

“Brother.” He muttered. “We met up recently through a mutual acquaintance.”

“The fellow I went out with a few nights ago turned out to be his husband.” Natalya helpfully clarified. “Of course, I only learned that  _ after  _ we sold a giant a goat and snuck into a temple.” Belethor heard someone choking on their drink. He belatedly realised it was him and pounded at his chest, coughing.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink as much next time.”  _ Holy shit, he can show emotion _ . 

“Maybe you should keep track of your husband for once.”

“Drink now, complain later.” Adrienne cut in. She helpfully filled their hands with tankards of wine. They didn’t seem to protest, if the next three they went through meant anything.

* * *

By the end of the night, many things were learned. One was that giants were into bestiality, which he didn’t know or need the particulars of. Another was that, on some level, Sam Whatever-the-fuck was not human? Couldn’t be? Because who the fuck can travel from Rorikstead to Markarth in less than three hours? And that’s with trips in between to ruin lives?

He also learned that Julius was very good at the shovel talk. He had given it to all of them after Natalya had gone to sleep at the counter. Having a large wood elf larger than a werewolf lean over you and threaten to castrate and cauterize you is a learning experience. It is not a learning experience he wanted, or needed.

Around dawn, one of the housecarls, a young woman, came in, raising brows at everyone who was awake. Or waking up, in some cases, because Huldra was unsympathetic and cruel. She ignored them all and hitched Natalya over her shoulder like a sack, grabbing her brother and forcibly dragging him out the door.

Belethor could only ogle at the sight for a moment before Huldra slammed a plate into the side of his head to get him up faster.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Natalya popped up in the city, she was back to her quiet self. Not as shy, no, but not quite up for conversation. She still gave them all smiles when she saw them, and actually chuckled at some of Belethor’s jokes. Take  _ that _ , Carlotta, and shove your opinions where the sun don’t shine.

The unnerving thing was, she had a new tagalong. 

A Dunmer by the looks of it, wearing full mage regalia as she trailed behind Natalya. Oh, she greeted them all politely enough, made small talk here and there. But the belt of screaming masks sort of negated the effect, and had the citizens edging away from her. Especially when she put one on and jumped into the Dragonsreach pond to fish. For ten minutes without coming up. Natalya had just shrugged when the guards has panicked, apparently, and said she was fine.

Adventurers.

It took Farengar coming to the inn to understand what the hell was going on. Again. He was half terrified when he stumbled in, according to Huldra, and drunk off his ass when the vendors appeared for the nightly commiseration.

“You alright, there?” Arcadia asked, because Arcadia was kinder than the others, who were plotting how to hang him up by his robes. Farengar only moaned, sinking his head further into his arms.

“College-” was the only thing they could hear out of his muttering. The merchants looked between each other, each debating whether it was worth it. That question, like the past few times, was answered by Natalya and her shadow for the day entering the tavern. The other woman had a hand lifted, casting some spell that made a trail that lead to Farengar. The mage whimpered when he saw them, which was slightly horrifying, and they all watched as the woman grabbed him by the hood and dragged him out with a blank expression.

The door slammed with a finality.

“What, uh. What’s going on there?” Natalya turned towards them, and something in Belethor recoiled. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, she was the same as always, and yet.

The girl shrugged. “Farengar paid some guys to try and kill me, and Regina wasn’t really happy with it.” That made them pause.

“He... He sent  _ mercenaries _ after you?  _ Why??”  _

“Well. I snoop around, I guess?” She took a seat on one of the benches, not noticing or caring as Elrindir leaned away with worry-unease. “I also have a tendency to collect weird artifacts, which may be partly why.”

“Artifacts.” she nodded, and unhooked the mace that had been hanging from her hip. The sense of unease peaked, and they all stared at the weapon in horror.

“That’s unholy.” Natalya started to nod, before stopping and considering it.

“Well, I guess? It sort of is. Um.”

“What  _ is  _ it?”

“It- what was his name- um, the Mace of Molag Ba’al?” They turned their stares to her. “My brother picked it up along they way. He said it’d be useful since I’m always having to buy more soul gems, but I haven’t really figured out what he meant...? He also gave me this-” The adventurer rummaged through her bag, her moue of concentration at odds with everyone’s grimaces of primal fear.

“You- do you not feel that? At all?” She paused, looking at Belethor. “The thing’s practically evil!”

“Well, I guess.” She repeated, finally drawing her arm out. She was gripping a hilt, attached to a sword that held an orange glow. It was drastically better than the mace, radiating a warmth that chased away the numbness and terror the mace inspired.

"Dawnbreaker. Ta-da?"

“Did he say why he gave you that?”

“‘It sets dead things on fire, which will be helpful since you won’t stop raiding crypts’.” They stared some more. “What?”

* * *

 

Regina, along with Farengar, came back in sometime in the evening. The mage was bone-white and silent, but he wasn’t dead, and he was reacting whenever they tried to talk to him, so they left it to something the Jarl would probably do something about. Regina, though...

“You’re what.”

“Head of the College.” She took a sip of wine and grimaced, pushing the tankard towards Natalya, then seemed to think better of it and gave it to Adrianne. “I took over when they unearthed something they shouldn’t have. Don’t quite know why they put me in charge, but I can’t say I mind it. It lets me clean up their issues more smoothly.”

“So.  _ You  _ run the college,  _ Julius  _ slaughters bears for fun and raids Dwarven cities, and Natalya just, what, kills off bandits and draugr?”

Regina sent a raised brow at her sister, who shook her head. Well. If they didn’t know, she wasn’t about to say anything.

“If it helps any, it’s only because she’s the newest one here. Julius and I have been here for years, and our sister Tali and father longer than that. Our father..” She cocked her head. “He should be up near Dawnstar, if I remember right. And Tali’s in the north dealing with vampires and werewolves.”

“Does your mother do anything? With your family’s track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hunting dragons or something.” It was meant as a joke, which meant Belethor didn’t understand the look of pure confusion Regina sent him.

“We don’t have a mother. The younger kids had a tendency to call our dad that when they were younger, but...” She trailed off, eyeing her sister. Who was bright red and grimacing. “You got completely smashed again, didn’t you.”

“No.”

“Nat. You need to stop drinking. I just heard through the grapevine what happened with Sanguine.”

“ _ You can’t lecture me when you got into the moonshine. _ ”

“Fuck you, I thought it was some weird potion! That’s not the point here-” The merchants watched the two bicker, slowly sipping at their drinks. Then screamed when someone accidentally set off their magic and lit a stool on fire.

Good times.

* * *

Regina was gone the next morning, because there was no way to avoid being awkward after having to put the inn out. Natalya apparently left at the same time, because she didn’t pop into any shops, and no gossip came out from Dragonsreach. They went back to business, because that’s what you do when the fun’s gone and you have mouths to feed, and didn’t see hide nor hair of any of the siblings for almost a month.

Until the dragon landed in the square and started lighting everything on fire.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee


End file.
